


Leaves

by 2_many_fandoms_2_little_time



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Dead Andrew Minyard, Death, I'm Sorry, M/M, Old Neil Josten, Years Later, but gay all the same, sad gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:11:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2_many_fandoms_2_little_time/pseuds/2_many_fandoms_2_little_time
Summary: What happens to Neil after Andrew is gone?





	Leaves

The wind blew through the bare trees and rustled the remaining leaves over the brown grass speckling the ground. One leaf, jostled from its entanglement in a few weak strands of dying grass, gently caressed the flat, cut face of an ovalesque slice of slate emerging from the ground. The leaf lightly brushed the letters indented into the stone: ANDREW JOSEPH MINYARD.

 

A short, gangly man sits a short distance away, watching the wind blow against the rock. He has sharp blue eyes and flaming red hair that is streaked with gray. The eyes, so piercing, do a poor job of hiding the emptiness behind them. Legs tangled together, Neil Josten gazes in heavy silence at the rough stone grave with the moss climbing up the edges.

 

_“I hate you.”_

 

_A hand on the back of his neck, pulling him forward._

 

_“129%, Josten.”_

 

_A mouth that takes him apart, with every bite and kiss._

 

_A hand in his hair and on his waist, pulling him closer._

 

_Blankets, thin and sterilizingly white._

 

_A hand, paler than the moon, resting on the thin material of the gown, fingers tensing and stretching._

 

_A ventilator, in the corner, unused._

 

_A bag, black and vinyl, zipping closed._

 

_People in security uniforms, dragging him out the doors._

 

_A casket, lowering into the ground, people in black standing around it._

 

_A person, 5’ tall and blonde, walking away from him. A twin, who looks like his brother, but he’s not. He’s not he’s not he’s not._

 

 _Run, run, run_ , he thinks. But why? There is no one to come back to. His feet twitch, but he doesn’t move. His fingers trace patterns in the dirt and sand a few feet forward of the gravestone.

 

Neil doesn’t know why he comes here. Andrew isn’t at home, Andrew isn’t at work, and Andrew is most certainly not here in this cemetery, though his decaying body lies several feet below. Andrew is nowhere and Neil can’t stop searching.

 

He wants to see the 5-foot frame with blonde hair and feel the fingers curl around his neck and thumbs press into his cheekbones. He wants to entwine his fingers into the hair at the nape of Andrew’s neck and hear Andrew’s breath catch as he leaves soft bruises on Andrew’s neck. He wants for both of them to fall apart under each other’s touch, breaths stuttering and eyes wide open. But most of all, he wants Andrew’s hand in his as they sit a foot away from the edge of the roof, Andrew rotating between a cigarette and a bottle in the other hand.

 

But Andrew is dead and Neil is still here, and Neil is lost without him. He will always be lost, even more than he was before a certain someone slammed a racket into his stomach and told him to stay. Without Andrew, he is like the leaves that blow through the wind, unanchored and drifting, because they were cut from their tree.

 

Andrew always said he wanted nothing and Neil always replied that he was nothing, but while both were alive, both wanted and both were.

 

But without his rock, his protection, his Andrew, Neil is truly nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I am REALLY sorry. This is very sad I know and I was crying as I wrote this because... well, really, you DON'T have to ask why, it's pretty obvious. It was in my head and demanded to be written. I hope you... well not enjoyed, but it served some purpose? Okay, I'm going now...


End file.
